Before
by QueenAmbrose
Summary: (Prequel to this story -/s/10248415/1/Revenge) John Cena had been a staple in Nikki's life for a while. He was far from perfect, and the other woman she saw him with was proof enough. They get into an altercation, leaving her to be save by an unorthodox White-Knight, Dean Ambrose. Her life then continues it's spiral into the unknown, and she'd let it.


_**A/N: Hello there. So, this is something I just whipped up. I think it's the longest one-shot I've ever written. So I hope you guys like it - but don't get used to it. LOL. **_

_**If you're a Cena fan, I apologize in advance, as the following one-shot doesn't display his best sides. I pulled from his sometime passive aggressive attitude toward Nikki in **__**Total Divas **__**multiplied it by like 5. He's not very nice. I think you've got the picture by now. **_

_**Nikki and John aren't the only people I use in this, as you probably can tell. Dean Ambrose plays White-Knight later on. And neither he nor Nikki know why he's doing it. Needless to say, things get interesting when the two are alone.**_

Before

The Beginning

Nikki Bella sat in the back of a cab, her eyes fogged with tears and smeared mascara. She had just gathered herself, silencing the gasps for air. Her own tears had been her only friend since she left the club where she was supposed to meet her boyfriend, WWE's Golden Boy, John Cena. She had planned to drink, dance, flirt, and tease him all night – that was her plan. She should've known that her life never went according to plan.

When she got to the club, she saw John, but he didn't see her. Why? Because his hands were glued to another woman's hips, and his lips – you get the picture. Nikki yelled, pounding her fist onto the backseat, earning a displeased look from the cab driver. She ignored him, leaning forward and covering her face, resting het elbows on her bare knees. She sniffled, wiping her wrist under her nose. _How ladylike, Nicole. _She huffed a quick chuckle.

The cab pulled to a stop, and she sat there, sitting, waiting for a reason to get out of the cab. She looked out of the window, staring at the dark night sky, counting the visible stars. She then thought of John, and the way he used to look at her. The sparkle he used to get in his eyes when she walked into a room, or when she just looked at him. That same sparkle fizzled when he got hurt. She was right there after his surgery, and all she had to show for it, were harsh words and distasteful looks. He made her feel small, and dumb, taking the chance to criticize her whenever he got the chance. When she moved in with him, she realized that she was never an integral part of his life – he cared more about what clothes basket she put her dirty clothes in, or whether or not she used a coaster under the glasses she drank out of. The Bella, rubbed her face, realizing that she had known her relationship with John had been long over before she had caught him with another woman. She should have seen it coming, but lately, he had been getting better, he started to treat her better. Tonight would have been the first night they would have spent having fun together.

She unhooked her seatbelt and grabbed her purse and her shoes. Dropping her red Louboutin heels onto the pavement as she stepped out of the cab, her bare feet hitting the cool pavement. Paying the driver, she watched as he left, leaving her there, in front of the hotel entrance.

Her chocolate orbs struggled to see the figure sitting on a bench by the entrance. She picked up her high heeled shoes, and started to walk forward, gathering that it was John. In that moment, for a split second, she wanted to run, but she had never been one for running away. As she approached the entrance of the hotel, he saw her, quickly getting up from his seat on the bench, grabbing her arm. She spun around him, wrenching her arm from his grip, "Don't. Touch. Me," She said hoarsely. Damn the evidence of her bawling in the back of a cab.

"Okay." He said with concern, "What happened to you tonight? I waited for you at the club and you never showed," he looked at her, his baby blues reflected silver in the moonlight, and she forced herself to look away. She might had forgiven him if she hadn't. He stepped forward, invading her personal space, "Where were you?"

She could have told him that she took a cab to another bar, to drink away her pain, or that she spent 20 minutes crying in the bathroom of said bar before catching another cab to get back to the hotel, but she withheld that information. It also astounded her that she was supposed to be there at 11 and didn't show up for hours, and he still hadn't called her. She looked back up at him, her brown eyes trying to read his blue ones for any sort of regret or guilt, "You really are a cold bastard, aren't you?"

He was shocked, taken aback that she would say something like that to him. Then it hit him, she knew. But he wouldn't admit to anything unless she through the evidence in his face, "Excuse me?" He grabbed her wrist, "What is wrong with you?"

"Let go of me," She said harshly, not in the least bit concerned with the fact that he could pick her up and toss her across the sidewalk. John was a lot of things, but he wasn't violent. She pushed at him, "How many were there?" she asked, tears springing to her eyes, "And don't even pretend to not know what I'm talking about because I saw you – I fucking saw you!" she was yelled, but she didn't care that she was loud, there was no one else out there.

He stepped back, turning around, raking his hands over his head. He knew he was caught, but he would figure out a way to deflect. No one ever told him "no" or made him take responsibility for his actions because he was a top player in WWE. Management was there to make him happy. Nikki was there to make him happy. Everyone was. He pivoted around on his right foot, looking at her. He didn't say anything.

She was angered, "Are you gonna say something?" Nikki's face was red from crying and yelling, and it didn't seem to elicit any form of an emotion from him. It was like he was a different person.

"What does it matter?" He asked, arms flying outward. He shook his head, "We can move past this."

"When did you become such a pig?" she cried, wiping at her eyes because she refused to cry over him any longer, "You know what, don't answer my questions. Don't even talk to me," she turned around, starting to walk inside, when he grabbed her arm.

"We aren't done here," John said, his teeth gritted. Nikki looked at him, noticing that he looked like the angered man that attacked men in the ring – it was a rare look, but it was the one she was getting. His gripped tightened on her wrist, "We can move past this," He repeated. He'd be damned if he'd ever let anyone walk past him. How dare she even try?

"John," she said calmly, fear was starting to settle in her. She just wanted to get away from him, "John, let go." He squeezed on her wrist harder, and she winced, "You're hurting me, John – let go. Seriously." She tried to think of something to say to him that would calm him down. She then started to smell the alcohol on his breath and in his clothes. He grabbed his shoulders, shaking her, causing her to drop the heels she had under her arms. She screamed involuntarily when his fingers gripped her shoulders, she then grasped the situation that John – the one that was minutes away from frothing at the mouth – wasn't the same man she had fallen in love with.

She looked over his shoulder, trying to see if anyone would come walking around that corner to help her. Her screaming wasn't enough. She hadn't been a praying woman in a while, but in that moment, she had to close her eyes to ask for a miracle, because John was strong and she couldn't fight him. When she opened her eyes, she saw him… Dean Ambrose. He was walking around the corner, hoodie zipped all the way up and his hood covering his head. Thinking fast, she sent a swift kick upward, hitting John in the groin. He groaned loudly, yelling obscenities. She tried to run toward Dean, but John – who hadn't seen Dean yet – grabbed her.

He lifted his hand to strike her, but she screamed, gaining Dean's attention. The blond haired man, came running, "What the hell are you doing?" He yelled, catching Nikki after a stunned John pushed her at him.

John chuckled, "It's hardly any of your business." He said. Seemingly recovered, his hands on his hips, regaining his breath and pushing the pain away.

Dean waited until Nikki was standing before getting in John's face. His eyes were crazed, he hadn't seen the entire exchange between the couple, but from the bruises forming on her shoulders and her wrists, the U.S. Champion had put two and two together. John tried to walk away, but Dean stood in his way, "Since I'm a decent human being, and because she's been through enough shit for the night – I'm not gonna punch your fucking lights out," Dean smiled sinisterly, watching John try to pretend like he wasn't bothered by the thought of Dean beating him within an inch of his life. "But If you come near her again, I won't hesitate to break that handsome face of yours, and smile while I'm doing it." Dean threatened people on a daily basis when they pissed him off – his stable mates could vouch for him – but those were all empty threats. What he had just said to John wasn't just a threat, it was a promise he intended on keeping.

John returned his smile, both men trying to gauge whether or not they'd start beating the hell out of each other right then and there. John however, didn't have time to be bothered with them anymore, He sent a look at Nikki who was hugging herself, he said, "I'm not the one you have to worry about." He looked back at Dean, "She's attached to me, I own her." He was a cocky prick – Dean gathered – a bastard who thought that he had somehow come to own the world.

The U.S. Champion scoffed, pointing his arm behind him, "You better make sure that even if she shows up in your hotel room, naked and throwing herself at you, you grab her a robe and kick her out," Dean continued without a thought, "Because I swear to god if I find out you were even near her, I will fucking beat the shit out of you. Now get out of my sight before I lose my temper and break your jaw."

John laughed, stepping backwards, walking inside, and leaving them alone.

Dean turned around, looking at Nikki and taking into account that all she had with her was the dress she was wearing, her purse, and the red high heels she had with her. "Come on."

She looked at him hesitantly. She hadn't thought that far. She's figure he'd beat the hell out of John and she have to take him to hospital and they'd forget what happened. But no, Dean basically made her off limits. She didn't trust him, or the men he hung out with, but she had no other options since Brie wasn't in the hotel – instead she was in Aberdeen with Daniel.

"You coming?" He said, picking up her shoes and her purse, "You want these back? Come with me." He had to bribe her into coming with him. He wanted to keep things light hearted because from what he'd just witnessed, she was a battered woman who had every right to never trust another man; ever. He was never nice, and he found himself discarding different women like used condoms, but she was different. He knew it; he could sense it.

Nikki followed after him, limping because she had hurt her ankle from kicking John so hard. She actually smirked, feeling empowered in some twisted way. John was a loser, but damn him. Damn him for not staying perfect. No matter how much she had loved him, she realized the feeling had been gone, and she had to move on.

After a short elevator ride, three glasses of water, an entire box of tissues, and an oversized t-shirt later, Nikki and Dean sat on the couch in his hotel room. He was helping her hold ice on the bruises she had. He was holding an icepack on her ankle. She looked up at him, wondering when in the hell he had decided that he wasn't going to be the asshole everyone thought he was, "Why are you doing this for me?" She blurted, quickly regretting the fact that she didn't have a filter in between her brain and her mouth, "Not to say that I don't appreciate that you're helping me, but you haven't exactly been someone in my life."

He stopped studying her ankle, seemingly contemplating her words. He prided himself on being an observant person, and he could tell that she was racking her brain to try and figure him out, but he wouldn't let her. He smiled, his dimples displayed perfectly, "Because I want to, and because you deserve someone who is gonna make sure that you're okay." He had made the decision to be there for her on the ride in the elevator up to his floor.

"How do you know I deserve that?" she hadn't been known as the nicest person backstage, and to most people, she was sure she was a bitch. But he didn't seem to care.

He chuckled, "I know what it's like to have people look at you and think they know everything about you, and I know that you don't deserve half the shit you've been through."

Nikki smiled, her face stiff from crying – even in the shower, she couldn't stop. "Did you mean what you said to him?"

"Yes," he said simply. "I keep my promises, I can – I will protect you from him." She wanted to cry some more. She knew very well that he had Rollins and Reigns to back him up, but he didn't say _we, _he said _I_ and it sort of warmed her heart to think that a stranger felt so strongly in what he said that he would promise her that. "I can't promise a lot of things, because I'm not the best guy, but believe me when I say that I'll always be here."

She knew about his rep as a player, but in that moment, none of it mattered because she looked in his blue eyes and all she saw was truth. "I don't believe what people say about you, you know." She actually hadn't – she may not have given it much thought before, but she meant what she had said.

He chuckled, "You should," he smiled at her, "Most of it's true." A lot of it wasn't, but that was a conversation for another time.

They fell into silence, and he wondered what had possessed him to bring her up to his room. He could have easily taken her to Naomi, AJ's or Natalya's room, but he didn't. And if anyone ever asked him why he hadn't, he would say it was because it was 4 in the morning and they were all asleep. Everyone knew he wasn't the most considerate person, but they wouldn't question him because it was an argument they wouldn't want to happen.

He looked back up at Nikki, wondering how a beautiful woman got caught up in the John Cena's games. The WWE's MVP didn't deserve her. She wasn't the sweetest person, but she seemed to genuinely care about other people. He guessed it was because she wanted what her sister had, and there was nothing wrong with that, but John Cena wasn't the man to want it with. Hell, neither was he, but dammit, he'd treat her better, _wait what? _He thought, he jerked a hand through his hair, his fingers momentarily getting stuck in the lose curls he never combed.

He gently took her hand in his, taking notice of the way she stared at him, stunned at the sudden moment. He examined the hand shaped bruise around her wrist, wondering how many times she'd seen a mark on herself caused by the man that supposedly loved her. "How long?" he asked, hoping he wouldn't have to elaborate on what he meant. He laced his fingers in with hers, her hand warm against his.

Her head dropped a little, her loose, chocolate hair falling off her shoulders and tickling the skin of his arms, "He's never been physical with me until tonight." She looked away from him, her gaze focusing on the lamp in the corner next to the TV that was currently showing _Married with Children_ reruns, "He never ceased to treat me like shit, or making me look like an idiot, but he never hit me." He still hadn't hit her, but he'd attempted to.

He gently took her chin in his hand, tentatively turning it to face him, dropping his hand, "You're not an idiot, and your definitely don't have anything to feel shitty about." He looked into her eyes, "I meant what I said, he's never going to hurt you again."

She gave him a sad smile, breaking out in a yawn. He laughed, kissing the bruise on her wrist. She then realized how close they were, and how handsome he was. She mentally kicked herself, telling herself that he was just being nice. There was a pause, time stopping as they stared at each other. And as clichéd as it was, she felt butter flies in her stomach, and her head was spinning. Dean must have felt it too, because he started to lean forward, meeting her half way. They both hesitated. He looked in her eyes, waiting to see any discomfort, and when he saw none, he pressed forward, kissing her.

After a few seconds, she kissed him back. The kiss was tentative on both their parts, and for a few moments, it was chaste and innocent, but they soon gave into their need. He wanted something that would be more meaningful, and she wanted to be safe. Yeah, maybe kissing each other was too soon, but it didn't matter because they had already jumped in, head first.

She moved toward him, moving her right leg so that it was on the other side of his lap. She straddled, him. The kiss had become much more passionate and they were tumbling past the point of no return. His hands skimmed the skin underneath the shirt he had given her to wear, and she shivered at the contact. As she kissed him, she played at his ears, slightly puling at them as she caressed the smooth skin of his face.

Dean soon recollected himself, grabbing her waist as he stood up from the couch, chuckling as she squealed in surprise. He started to move toward the bed room, hitting the coffee table, and the reclining chair in the process. She nibbled on his bottom lip, all too aware that he was getting more and more aroused by the second.

They tumbled through the threshold of his room, and she kicked the door open with her left foot. He carried her toward the bed, pulling back the covers and setting her down on the folded over comforter. She spread out her arms on the thick, white, down comforter, her shoulders aching from the new bruises. He noticed the way her face contorted in pain, but he didn't want to kill the moment by bringing up why she got them. Despite the bruises, she seemed to be enjoying herself. He pulled his shirt off, discarding it over his shoulder.

Nikki sighed contentedly, just taking in the beauty that was the body of Dean Ambrose. He went toward her, taking in the way she was tentative about the way he approached her. "We don't have to –"

"Shut up and kiss me," she said, grabbing him by the elastic band of his sweat pants, reconnecting their lips. Her hands tucked in the sides of his pants, grabbing at his hips. He however, grabbed the hem of her shirt, sliding his hands across her skin as he pushed the fabric up toward the top of her breast, revealing the fact that she hadn't been wearing a bra.

Nikki's delicate hands moved to cover herself, but he smiled down at her, carefully removing them from over her chest, "Don't hide from me," his voice was husky with lust, causing heat to rush to her cheeks – and her lower tummy.

She soon relaxed under his gaze, continuing his undoing. His lips skimmed her throat, and her chest heaved as he worked on the sensitive skin behind her ear. He worked his way down, leaving a trail of butterfly kisses on her neck. He kissed the bruises on her shoulders, careful not to put too much pressure on her skin. Working his way down her clavicle, he kissed the valley in between her breast, skipping over them, moving toward the hem of her underwear. He slid his fingers in between her hips and the thin fabric, pulling them downward.

"Not fair," she huffed, she sounded breathless, "You're still wearing pants."

"You gonna change that?" he responded playfully, letting her know that if she wanted them gone, she would have to remove them. Squinting her eyes, she pulled him closer, using her legs to assist herself, she grabbed the band of his pants, pushing them down. He chuckled, nibbling at her lips, "Aggressive..." he smiled into the kiss as she gripped him. She rolled her hips against his groin, eliciting a groan from him. The fabric of is boxers were rather thin and they were keeping them from what they wanted. So she got rid of the article of clothing – he kicked them off, discarding them on the floor.

He moved himself from atop her, and leaned over to the drawer, feeling around for a condom. Finding what he was looking for, he looked for the crease at the opening, tearing it open with is teeth, "Sexy," Nikki laughed sarcastically, but he didn't reply, just settling himself between her legs.

He rolled on the condom, and looked down at her, waiting for consent. She gave him a nod, which was all the confirmation he needed. He pushed into her, giving them a few moments to adjust to the feeling of each other. Nikki bit her lip in anticipation for what was coming. He took it slow letting her dictate how he moved; let the sounds she let slip urge him one. She needed the care, he was only trying to please her, because after all the shit she'd been through, she needed someone to just worry about her, and that's what he was going to do. He kissed her again, sloppily, but passionately. She shifted her hips, changing the angle, loving the way he felt where he was; comforted in knowing that he hadn't left yet.

She scraped at his back, her core starting to tighten. She knew she was close, and so was he. He slowed the pace, lifting her toned leg to above her shoulder. She moaned freely, making him smirk. She tried to speak, probably tell him she was close, but he already knew that, "I know."

She let go, giving into the sensations that she had been trying to hold back. She floated into to ecstasy, all the way from her abdomen to her toes, chest heaving. Dean himself, after a few more thrusts, his peak, patience and resilience could only last so long. He breathing was jagged, and she struggled to calm her body. He rolled over, pulling out of her, she found herself missing him.

He got out of the bed, and he was gone for a moment, before coming back and lying next to her. He pulled up the covers, shielding them from the cold. Their skin was slick with a thin layer of sweat, and their bodies welded together as she cuddled into him. He kissed her forehead, surprised with himself, because he was never nurturing after sex, but she was different. He watched her close her eyes, a faint smile on her face. He felt the same happiness, closing his eyes. He fell asleep knowing that when he woke up, nothing would be like it was before.


End file.
